They will take it not leave it
beg, buy or thieve it
and you’ll sit on your backside
willing yourself to believe it’s
not true

you know the score,
I’ve set store by the chimes
and at time’s wished it
wished it were candy
instead of your lies

and at the end of the day
I’m not sure which way
or whether the wind blows
at all.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.